


night daze

by servicetopthor



Series: Dick or Treat 2020 [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Riding, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24068311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servicetopthor/pseuds/servicetopthor
Summary: Jaskier’s eyes were wide. They had turned to an inhuman shade of blue, glowing in the darkness. His skin was an ominous grey. However, it was still Jaskier staring down at Geralt, with goddamn horns and the scent of a demon. “I never intended to kill you,” Jaskier finally spoke.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Dick or Treat 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704907
Comments: 2
Kudos: 200
Collections: Dick or Treat - Scrohto Region, Prompt Table Challenge: Sexy and Kinky





	night daze

**Author's Note:**

> If I wasn’t writing a bazillion fics at the moment I would make this longer. Also, how the fuck do you write these characters? Please help. I nearly said aloud “please stop talking and just have sex.”

When Jaskier met Geralt, the Witcher nearly gagged at the strong, floral scents the man was soaked in. It was odd, but Geralt didn’t find it concerning for a bard to have peculiar tastes. Geralt grew accustomed to the fragrance. It could carry significantly so Geralt always knew when a run-in with the bard was imminent. 

It should have been the first warning sign. There were many Geralt missed.

“Ewelina! My sweet Ewelina! Who did this to you?” Geralt could hear a woman’s screams from the open window of his inn room. He rushed out into the village, seeing a crowd in front of a nearby house. He pushed through, finding a woman leaning over a body. A deceased young woman, nude and half-covered by a blanket.

“Witcher!” the older woman screeched. “You must find the demon that killed her!”

Geralt doubted a demon came anywhere the girl. All he could smell was—

“Geralt,” Jaskier said as he appeared at the Witcher’s side. They hadn’t seen each other for months, and despite the scene around them, Geralt could appreciate a familiar face. “My god, what happened?”

Geralt cursed his past self. It was so obvious, any fool could see. 

They were traveling together when it all came to light. Geralt rested atop Roach as Jaskier skipped alongside, humming tunes and making conversation with himself.

“My neck is going to appreciate an inn’s bed tonight,” Jaskier was saying, stretching his head from side to side. “I doubt I could handle another night on those uncomfortable—”

“The village is two days away,” Geralt interrupted, better to quash Jaskier’s hopes early before his complaining went into the night hours while Geralt tried to sleep.

Jaskier stopped talking and walking, freezing in place as Roach passed him. Geralt looked back, finding a strangely pale Jaskier staring blankly. 

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier blinked, meeting Geralt’s gaze. “Two days? I… I thought you said we’d be there tonight.”

Geralt shook his head. “Why should I bother speaking if you never listen?” he grumbled, turning back around as Roach continued forward. Jaskier caught up, but his expression was tight and he remained suspiciously silent for the rest of the night.

When they stopped to camp for the night, he asked, “Is this path well-traveled?”

Geralt didn’t look at him as he answered, “No.”

Despite the dismissal, Jaskier’s gaze fell onto the path often throughout their campfire meal. He jumped at any sound, his face falling whenever it was revealed to be wildlife. Jaskier was on edge, putting Geralt on edge as well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Geralt eventually snapped, exhausted by Jaskier’s odd behavior.

Jaskier frowned, his eyes uncharacteristically dull. “I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep,” Geralt replied sternly.

Jaskier did, thankfully. Leaving Geralt to think in peace. And eventually, drift into his own slumber. 

\---

Geralt has brushed with death many times, as was typical for his kind. Such events were unavoidable, but Geralt usually anticipated them. In the rare few that came suddenly, the moments were always clear in his memory.

As was this moment, the moment Geralt was awoken from his sleep by chance, a pack of wolves howling in the distance, causing his eyes to blink open to the moonlit forest—

And a figure above him. One familiar in the drowsy blur, until the scent of sulphur hit Geralt’s nose and he realized there were two horns piercing from the figure’s head. 

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” Geralt growled at the bard. A breeze on Geralt’s naked skin let him know he was partially naked, while Jaskier was standing fully nude.

Jaskier’s eyes were wide. They had turned to an inhuman shade of blue, glowing in the darkness. His skin was an ominous grey. However, it was still Jaskier staring down at Geralt, with goddamn horns and the scent of a demon. “I never intended to kill you,” Jaskier finally spoke.

Geralt chuckled at that, sitting up slowly. “And what changed that? Whichever curse put horns on your head?” 

Jaskier glared down at him. “It’s not a curse. I’m an incubus.”

It made perfect sense, which only frustrated Geralt further. He remembered times of Jaskier frantically trying to seduce women with songs and gifts, mysterious disappearances of women occurring when Geralt met up with the bard again, and that fucking floral smell he drenched himself in, likely to hide his true identity from Geralt and other Witchers.

“You’ve run out of time,” Geralt said.

“I would have had my way with that lovely daughter of the merchant we bought bread from, had I known we wouldn’t make it to town another day,” Jaskier rambled, his voice dropping to a beastly octave. “Because it’s been too long. I have my needs, and you’re my last resort.”

Geralt frowned. He wondered how many women and men Jaskier had killed right under his nose. “You’ve made me quite the fool, Jaskier.”

Jaskier smiled at that. “You truly never suspected a thing?”

Geralt shook his head. His hand felt around behind him, searching for his sword. Jaskier surely took, threw it into the depths of the forest. Geralt replied, “In my experience, incubi are far more charming.”

Jaskier huffed, hands falling to his bare hips. “I can be quite charming, when I need to be.”

“In a desperate moment, like now?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier hesitated to answer. “Yes,” he eventually confirmed.

“For what it’s worth, I’d rather not kill you,” Geralt admitted. “But you know if you start a fight, I will. I can’t let you kill any more innocent women.”

It was a comical sight, a naked, demonic Jaskier standing in front of Geralt, his head bowed in thought. Geralt wondered if they both would survive the night. He had wondered similar thoughts in the past, but never followed by the easiest ways he could subdue and kill Jaskier. Even now, he’d rather not think of such things.

“I don’t have to kill people,” Jaskier began. “Common misconception. I just need sex in this form. I kill those I have sex with in this form because I can’t have everyone knowing I’m an incubus. I’d be hung by dawn.”

Geralt let the information sink in. He knew little about incubi and succubi, by Witcher standards. A plan began to form in his mind, one that would allow them both to see sunrise and countless other lives saved.

“I’ll have sex with you. Now. And whenever you need it,” Geralt offered.

Jaskier blinked. He stepped forward, his eyes growing amused. “The noble Witcher willing to sacrifice his body to save the young virgins of Blaviken and beyond! Oh yes, this will make quite a ballad,” he mused. 

Geralt nearly smiled, it was the first thing Jaskier said since he awoke that was fitting for the bard. “If the rumors I’ve heard are true, perhaps it won’t be much of a sacrifice.”

“Ah, so you have heard of my prowess in the bedroom,” Jaskier said. In an instant, Jaskier was on top of Geralt, settling into his lap. “I will admit, I have often wanted to show you it before, but I never thought you would be receptive to my advances.”

A warm weight in Geralt’s lap was always pleasant. Even with the eerie appearance, it was still Jaskier, and Geralt could admit he had considered bedding the bard before. It seemed foolish. He didn’t need Jaskier singing the praises of his cock in the many towns he performed in.

“How would you like me?” Geralt asked, unsure of what an incubus needed to be content.

Jaskier grinned. Up close, Geralt noticed sharp teeth. Jaskier’s hand gripped Geralt’s groin. “I’d like this ridiculous broadsword inside of me.”

Geralt certainly couldn’t complain, although he wouldn’t have minded the other way around. He reached behind Jaskier, tracing down his back until he reached his ass. He was surprised when his fingers felt a wetness around Jaskier’s hole. “You—”

“Yes, I prepared myself whilst you slept,” Jaskier interrupted. “I prayed you’d sleep through the whole thing.”

Geralt pushed a finger inside Jaskier with ease. He could feel his own cock hardening as Jaskier clenched around his finger.

“Would you like—”

“Stop talking,” Geralt grunted. Jaskier’s hand stroked him through leather, matching the pace of Geralt's finger moving in and out of his hole. 

“I was going to offer my mouth, Witcher,” Jaskier replied, unbothered by Geralt’s words. Geralt merely nodded before Jaskier was moving, he unsheathed Geralt’s cock from the layers of leather and cotton before repositioning himself until his head hovered over Geralt’s cock. 

Geralt’s hand fell to Jaskier’s head, thumb catching on one of his horns as Jaskier swallowed around his cock. Jaskier was efficient in his movement, clearly practiced in the art of sucking cock. Once Geralt’s cock was fully hard, he popped off and lifted his head to meet his gaze.

“I’d like to ride you,” he said, his voice pleasantly rough to Geralt’s ears.

Geralt nodded, fully intending not to say another word beyond occasional grunts for the rest of the night. Jaskier shoved at his shoulders and Geralt laid back down. He expected Jaskier to get right to it, to feed whatever hunger endangered him. Instead, Jaskier leaned over him, pressing their mouths into a deep kiss.

Geralt indulged him, lifting a hand to Jaskier’s jaw. He tasted strange, sour and cold in ways no lips should be. But it was the same mouth that song his praises as well as annoyed him for hours on end. It was comforting to kiss Jaskier, when Geralt thought of that.

Jaskier pulled back, sitting up as he positioned himself. One hand on Geralt’s cock, he began to sink down on it. A groan caught in Geralt’s throat as he forced his body to remain still. Jaskier let out a shuddery breath. “Fuck, you’ll have to carry me tomorrow, you brute.”

“I said stop talking,” Geralt gritted before Jaskier began to move.

“You don’t mean that,” Jaskier said, his voice higher as he slowly lifted his hips. “So stop pretending you do.”

Geralt didn’t respond, far too focused on the sensation of Jaskier’s ass sinking down again. His hands moved to rest on Jaskier’s hips, urging him to move faster while not forcing him to do so. Jaskier complied, although his movements were still languid but without considerable pauses.

“Perhaps, next time, I’ll let you hold me down and have your way with me,” Jaskier rambled. “Like your whores. Although I’m sure you try to be gentle, don’t you Geralt? You wouldn’t have to be gentle with me. I can assure my kind are quite sturdy beings. Even a man of your size can fuck as he pleases.”

Geralt closed his eyes, which Jaskier took as an invitation to lean over and kiss him again. It shut him up, at least. And when Geralt teased Jaskier with his tongue, and nipped with his teeth, Jaskier’s pace quickened. Geralt groaned into Jaskier’s mouth, earning a breathy  _ “Geralt,” _ from the bard in return. 

Jaskier was moving in earnest now, breaking away from the kiss. Geralt opened his eyes, seeing Jaskier’s hair flopping onto his forehead. One of his hands, previously planted on Geralt’s shoulder, wrapped around his needy cock. Geralt had the thought to bat away the hand and make Jaskier come only from his cock, but he knew he wasn’t meant to be in control now. He kept his hands on Jaskier’s hips, enjoying the sights and sounds before him and allowing the bard to set the pace.

Jaskier’s bouncing faltered as he approached orgasm, while his hand moved rapidly. Geralt, chasing his own pleasure, did buck his hips up, fucking himself into Jaskier. With a melodic moan, Jaskier came first, spilling over his hand and Geralt’s chest. Geralt didn’t last much longer, shoving himself into Jaskier one last time before pleasure froze him. 

Blinking at the night sky above, Geralt finally came to his senses again. Jaskier was half-asleep on top of him. Geralt lightly shoved him off, going to clean himself in the stream they camped near.

He did hear Jaskier mumble, “Thank you.” Geralt did not respond.

When he returned from the stream, Jaskier was asleep and hornless. Geralt was content. With the many outcomes the night could have had, he considers this high on the positive ones.

\---

Months lasted, the epic Jaskier sung around the towns about a Geralt’s battle with a lustful demon was full of passion, as was the night spent together in a warm inn bed.


End file.
